The Case of the Lost Actress
by aggirl53
Summary: Ellie is a teen actress who randomly wakes up in London with no idea how she got there. While investigating Ellie's case, Sherlock realizes that she too has a way of picking up details just like him but with a hitch- she can only read emotions. Using this power, Ellie is able to reveal secret feelings John has felt for the detective for a long time. Yaoi, Johnlock. Review!


The Case of the Lost Actress

Full Synopsis: An sixteen year old girl by the name of Ellie comes to Holmes telling him she has no clue how she ended up in London. She recalls going to sleep in her home in New York and waking up in an apartment two doors down from the his flat, also owned by Mrs. Hudson. Holmes is immediately intrigued, as is Watson, as soon as the girl starts reading their emotions in a very Sherlock fashion. This results in a bit of a read- off battle between the two, only Holmes wins because he can figure pasts by looks, not just emotions. It is then we learn she was a passionate method actress who often observed people who were like her parts in order to portray the parts better. Holmes figures this by the seeing her unkempt nails (no time to do them), her sneakers (perfectly dressed but no heels), and the torn Shakespeare biography found in her only possession, her purse. We also learn that she has two boyfriends, because of the two brand- new name bracelets around her wrist, and that her mother is a dentist while he father is a Broadway producer (afternoon toothpaste stain yet dripping with wealth). Sherlock and John offer to let Ellie stay in their apartment in John's bed, while John is forced to share a bed with Sherlock. Later, Sherlock requests Ellie to phone her parents. She says she can't because they have stopped talking to her and are making her live on her own. John argues with her and Sherlock when they defend that the case can be solved without notifying her parents. It when Ellie is living in the flat that she notices John and Sherlock's feelings for each other. She claims it a result of her "excellent gay-dar" and tells John she "will probably kiss more gay men" than either of them. Sherlock becomes desperate for evidence, as there is a high lack- there- of in the apartment. Eventually, he starts performing experiments on every single fluid used by Ellie in the house regularly, a very tedious task. This is when his relationship with Watson flourishes. One day, Ellie finally gets phoned by her parents. They are in London, tied to tanks slowly filling with battery acid. Sherlock that morning reaches a breakthrough with Ellie's toothpaste. The old tube was drugged, explaining her amnesia. The phone call indicates that her parents are under ransom for her money, but why would someone call if she was only the teenager? The person planted Ellie as a way to keep Sherlock busy while they robbed Ellie's family blind and attempted murder on her parents. Now they wanted to play Sherlock and see if they could get away with it. John and Sherlock track the call down, and in the cab Sherlock questions Ellie about her two boyfriends. The latter, we learn, was her tutor in New York by the name of Mr. Moriarty. When Sherlock and John arrive on the scene, John passes out, as his toothpaste was drugged. Sherlock was more clever than that, yet not clever enough to warn his lover of it. Ellie watches over John in an alleyway while Sherlock busts the warehouse with his gun pointed. Moriarty is gone. The parents aren't. When Sherlock rescues them, he realizes it was all too easy. John and Ellie were kidnapped while he was gone. Sherlock deduces they are at a abandoned school two blocks from there (the direction of Watson's coat ripped, the lack there of tire skids in the ally, and Moriarty's flourish). When he arrives, Moriarty has both hanging over a bat of acid, and tells Holmes he has to pick one or surrender himself to Holmes. They are running out of time, as the teeter totter they are on gets closer to breaking. All Sherlock has to do is lower the weight on one and the other rises back to safety. John yells at him, telling Sherlock to let him take the fall. Finally, John himself jumps into the acid. When he surfaces, we find it is simply a mixture of water with oil and gel. Moriarty commends the two on their skills, but ends up escaping with the money. Ellie and her family are reunited and put under the witness protection program. Sherlock and John live happily in love. The End.

Chapter One: The Blogger, the Detective, and the Blonde

It was two in the morning when John Watson awoke to the sound of gunshots and a feminine scream. Fear did not immediately strike the doctor, as he was used to being awoken at this time of night either to acquiesce to make his flat mate breakfast or to listen to the loud strumming of a violin, but soon enough John found his heart pounding in his chest. Had it just been a gunshot, he would have attempted to sleep until another shot was fired and subsequently been forced to put an end to the shenanigans for the sake of the neighbors. But in this case, the scream was enough to send John over the edge and make his mind run with the possibility of his flat mate finally losing his marbles.

Fortunately, this pondering time was short lived, as Sherlock Holmes burst into John's room.

"John! John, wake up, I have good news!" piped the detective as he unceremoniously threw himself onto his friend's bed. John sat up in dismay, reaching over to flick on his bedside lamp while avoiding knocking over the cup of tea leftover from that night.

"Sherlock, if anyone is dead in our apartment, I'm afraid I'm going to have to move out," muttered a groggy John. He was slightly calmed by the cheery demeanor of his flat mate, after all the man wasn't completely unfeeling when it came to death, but still slightly dubious of the situation. Sherlock rolled his eyes.

"Oh, don't be daft. You and I both know the only dead things in this flat are the four ears, ten toes, eight eyeballs, and three arms in the fridge," he said, spitting out the list in rapid fire. It was enough to make John lean back and pinch the bridge of his nose.

"Three arms? I thought we only had two."

"Sorry, I forgot. You _are_ daft."

"Really, Sherlock? It's two o'clock in the morning."

"Your point?"

"Never mind. Who screamed?"

Sherlock stood up, seemingly bored with the conversation already, and began pacing around John's room and picking through his things.

"Hmm? That? Oh, that was Mrs. Hudson," he said as he observed John's sock drawer "Why do you need two pairs of green socks?"

"I don't know, forget about that. What happened to this case you were all excited to tell me about?" Sherlock turned to look at John now, one eye brow raised slightly and the ghost of a smile on his lips.

"I don't know if your aware of this, my dear Watson, but you are an impeccably good mood-kill," he stated. John refrained from rolling his eyes, only stood and exited the room.

"There's a girl in the living room," yelled Sherlock after him "Oh, and could you make me some tea?" John dared to turn around for a moment, a look of pure confusion plastered on his face.

"What was that?" he said incredulously. Sherlock shut the sock drawer, now attempting to amuse himself by looking through a set of files on John's desk.

"Tea, please, with two sugars and not just one," Sherlock paused a moment to read over one of the papers before dropping it to the floor "And Mrs. Hudson said her name is something with an "e", I forgot already. Emmy or Ella or something."

John convinced Sherlock to let the girl sleep until noon, seeing as Mrs. Hudson must have had some reason to leave the poor girl with them. Neither of the men noticed when she awoke.

"Sherlock, will you hurry up?" yelled John, rapping his knuckles against the door "I have to use the loo!" Much to the doctor's shock, the door opened to reveal a five- foot girl with waist length blonde hair. She peered up at him with big fawn eyes the color of the sky on a Sunday morning.

"Sorry," she said in an America accent "I didn't mean to keep you waiting."

John simply stared at her in shock for a moment before snapping out of his daze.

"No, no it's fine. Um.. You're the girl Mrs. Hudson left here? Uh, Emmy?"

"Ellie, actually, Ellie Kennedy. You must be Mr. Watson."

"Yes, hello," he said, awkwardly shifting from foot to foot. Ellie's eyes brushed over him briefly for a moment before she side- stepped out of the door way, gesturing to John as if handing the room off to him.

"I'll be in the living room. You can question me there," she said. The girl confidently turned on her heels, flouncing across the apartment like she owned the place. John turned the other way, entering Sherlock's room without knocking.

"Your girl's awake, Sher-" John stopped mid- sentence as he registered the scene before him. There stood Sherlock, his gun pointed out the window and his eye lined up with the sight.

"Shh," Sherlock shushed the other man.

"What are you doing?!" exclaimed John, running to the window and peering out. Sherlock found no reason to reply to his flat mate's question, he only aimed his sight better on the thing outside the window.

John examined the specimen hanging off a rope, relieved yet again that Sherlock wasn't engaging in any murderous activities, and soon was able to identify it as a human stomach.

"This is another one of your goddamn experiments, isn't it?" sighed John "I should have known."

"Here take this," said Sherlock. He thrust the gun into John's arms, his eyes a little hazy as thoughts ran through his mind.

"Why?" replied John. He looked down at the weapon in his hands, a little disturbed by the familiarity of the feel of the metal. Sherlock quietly took John by the shoulders, nudging him to the spot he had previously been aiming from. John stiffened under his touch.

"What are you-"

"Can you hit that at exactly a forty- five degree angle? You were in the army, you should know better than me."

Blushing a little at the compliment, John raised the gun without thinking and aimed at the trajectory Sherlock described.

"Why am I doing this?" he asked.

"For the same reason you do all the other things you do for me," replied Sherlock briskly.

Things went quiet as John steadied his gaze, let out an exhale of breath, and positioned his finger over the trigger. His heart thumped a little louder in his chest like it always did before he fired. He entered a state of focus not unlike what Sherlock described as his "mind palace," and was just about to squeeze the trigger when a voice broke him out of his trance.

"Why is he so nervous he's going to miss?"

The bullet clipped the side of the stomach, not at a forty- five degree angle but at a thirty-degree. The contents spilled out onto the roof, causing John and Ellie to both wrinkle their noses in unison. Sherlock glared at the young girl first before turning his gaze on John.

"You missed."

"I noticed," snapped John back. He stood up, turning on the safety before thrusting the gun back into Sherlock's hands.

"I wouldn't have had it not been for the interruption," said John, looking straight at Ellie. Her eyes widened.

"Oh, I'm sorry," she apologized "I didn't mean to-"

"How did you know he was nervous?" asked Sherlock suddenly. He strode across the room, joining Ellie and John near the doorway where Ellie leaned against the door frame with her hands sheepishly twisted together. She blinked up at him, suddenly gaining that confidence that she had previously displayed to John. Standing up straight, her hands rested calmly at her sides, and her blue eyes met Sherlock's sea foam ones.

"I read people," she said simply "I could tell by just looking at him that he was nervous about shooting the gun this particular time, but usually is quite confident." "How?" asked Sherlock. His eyes were burning into hers, shining with so much focus and curiosity it was almost painful. John was surprised to see the girl standing her own, her shoulders remaining relaxed.

"Well, there was a twitch in his lip when his finger met the trigger. And his back was rigid. But unlike someone who is always nervous shooting a gun, his eyes were focused and not moving around. Also, his Achilles stayed relaxed instead of tensing up with nerves, showing that he has used a gun before and knows the proper stance," she explained. While she spoke, a finger went up to Sherlock's lips and he was nodding. A small smile formed on John's face as his eyes darted between the two.

"Well I'll be damned, Sherlock, she sounds just like you."

John never thought he would see the sight before him, but that was an often occurrence around Holmes. In this case, it was Sherlock glaring over a table at the young blonde girl who stared back at him with a half-cocked smile.

Sherlock was "reading" the girl back while two cups of steaming tea sat between them. John sighed. If they let the tea go cold, he would be the one making more later.

"You're an actress," he said at last. Ellie nodded.

"Go on," she prompted. Sherlock leaned back in his chair, letting his fingers wander from his lips to the nape of his neck.

"Your parents are rich but you hate them. Oh, and your father's a Broadway producer. You have two boyfriends of about six months each- five for the second one. You tend to be a worrywart and you've had three ulcers even though you are only sixteen," stated Sherlock. Ellie grinned.

"Two ulcers," she corrected. Sherlock snapped his fingers and muttered something under his breath about over-estimating. John sat in the corner sipping his tea quietly.

"How did you know all that? I can-"

"Only read emotions? Yeah, I figured," said Sherlock smugly "That's part of how I figured the whole actress thing." Ellie nodded, picking up her tea humbly.

"Let's see. I know your parents are rich by the way you're dressed, but I figured your father's a Broadway producer because that shirt-" he gestured to her _Phantom of the Opera 2013 _t-shirt "is of a show that hasn't been released yet. You're an actress as well because even though you are a teenage girl, you haven't found time to paint your nails and you're wearing Nike sneakers. Most rich girls your age would never be found dead in those plain of shoes, but you wear them to practices because they are best for the stage floors. Also, you read because you're a method actress and you want to learn from real people how your characters behave. I know you have two boyfriends because you have two name bracelets on your wrist. They are both relatively new, meaning that they aren't from relatives in the past who can now afford to buy you diamonds. You wouldn't buy two name bracelets for yourself, so obviously they are from friends or lovers. I figured the latter because you are so pretty and confident around men. Your shirt rode up as you were sitting down and I noticed two deep scars on your stomach. When I saw that bits of your hair was pulled out by your ear, I figured you had some type of worrying issue, hence the ulcers, but I assumed that there was another scar somewhere I hadn't seen. This led me to believe that you aren't comfortable enough with your parents to talk about your issues, so you hate them with a passion," finished Sherlock. He gave a satisfied smile and glanced over at John, who was trying to hold in a laugh. Ellie bit her lip while watching the two, nodding at something going on in her head.

"Very good, Sherlock," she muttered, setting the tea cup down "But you missed one important thing."

"What's that, love?" he asked. Immediately, his green eyes took on a challenging look as he focused directly at the now- calmed girl. She sat there solemnly, staring at the ground as if trying to read its emotions instead of her own. When she looked back up, her blue eyes were tired as well as defeated.

"How did I end up in London?" she asked. Sherlock stared at her for a long moment. After a while, his green eyes turned as dark as Ellie's, and John looked uncomfortably between the two.

"You don't know," spoke Sherlock at last. Ellie nodded in confirmation. Sherlock looked at John with a smile.

"It seems we have found our new case."


End file.
